Let The Rain Wash All My Sins Away
by evansrachel2282
Summary: For Dramione Love-Fest 2015 (Drizzle Fest) Prompt 79: Let the rain fall down and wake my dreams, Let it wash away my sanity, 'Cause I wanna feel the thunder, I wanna scream, Let the rain fall down, I'm coming clean. Hilary Duff Draco and Hermione each struggle to move forward after the War, but maybe what they need is to move forward together.


**A/N: This is my first venture into this fandom, so please forgive any mistakes!**

 **Disclaimer: I'm a college student, and if I owned anything, I wouldn't be in debt. Oh, and Dramione would be canon. Obvs.**

Ever since she was a little girl, Hermione had always loved the rain.

She wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was the fresh, clean smell that permeated the air just before and after; maybe it was the way everything seemed to go still except for the sound of the water falling to earth; maybe it was the thrill of the thunder and lightning accompanying the raindrops, making the air sizzle with an almost magical hum.

Or maybe it was all and none of those things at all.

After Voldemort had fallen and the War had ended, Hermione had stood next to a dazed Harry and a grief-stricken Ron in the courtyard at Hogwarts, looking but not really seeing anything around her. Their side had won, and evil had fallen, but Hermione felt curiously detached.

Yes, evil may have fallen, but so had several on their side. Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, Neville Longbottom, Tonks and Remus, Fred Weasely, to name just a few. All loyal to the cause, all dedicated to the fight, and all not here to see the victory they had worked so hard to achieve. It wasn't right, wasn't fair.

A rumble from above broke through her musings. Tilting her head back, Hermione looked up at the darkening grey sky above her, the clouds swirling ominously. Even the weather seemed to match the somber occasion, she noted.

A drop of water fell from the sky and landed on her cheek. Then another and another until it was raining so hard Hermione couldn't tell the difference between her tears and the rain anymore.

She gave in.

Whirling to face the duo beside her, she quirked her brow at them the way she always did when she wanted their attention, and held out her hands. She hoped her eyes communicated what her voice could not.

Without pause, Harry took her left hand, Ron took her right, and suddenly, all three of them were whirling each other around, laughing, crying, getting completely soaked, and making complete ninnies out of themselves.

And Merlin, it felt wonderful.

Ron picked her up and twirled her. Hermione laughed, and as her head came up, a pair of hollow grey eyes caught hers. Her laugh died in her throat, and she swayed slightly as Ron released her.

Draco Malfoy stood some distance away, watching them silently. His face looked sallow and gaunt and his black robes were disheveled. His strange icy blond hair was wet and plastered to his head.

He looked awful. He looked like he didn't know how to go on, how to move forward.

He looked exactly like how she felt.

In the end, he'd chosen to side with the Order, but it had cost him his parents, and his abandonment of the loyalties he'd been brought up to believe in from birth. The price of his sins had been steep indeed.

The pain she could see in his eyes frightened Hermione, but she couldn't look away. The intensity of his stare caught and held her in its grasp; she was powerless against the onslaught until he released her.

Without realizing it, she took a step towards him, wanting somehow to _comfort,_ to _help,_ but before she could go any further, his familiar mask of cold disdain settled on his face, and with a sneer, he broke their connection. As she watched him turn and walk away, Hermione realized two things:

She loved the rain in this moment because it represented purification, a fresh start. _Salvation and Redemption._

Secondly, Draco Malfoy's eyes were the exact same shade as the storm clouds

currently above her head.

It took time, but though it seemed impossible, life carried on as it always did.

The Ministry was rebuilt under the leadership of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry and Ron were both offered prominent positions under the new Minister of Magic, and deciding that Hogwarts held too many painful memories for them, they decided not to finish their final school year, and instead accepted Kingsley's offer. Hermione was also offered a position with the Ministry, but she chose to defer until she had completed her NEWTS.

Even though she understood Harry and Ron's reasoning, nothing they could say could convince her not to finish her Hogwarts education. Yes, terrible things had happened, and yes, they all were struggling with demons, but Hermione preferred to face hers with her head held high. For nearly eight years, she had strived and worked to be the top of her class, and by all that was holy, magical, or Muggle, she was going to fulfill that goal.

She was met with a warm welcome by the new Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, and by several of her fellow Gryffindors. She was surprised and a little saddened to realize that she was the only returning Eighth Year in her house. However, she was completely shocked to discover that Malfoy had also returned to Hogwarts for his final year.

Rumor had it that he was only there because the Ministry had ordered him to be as a sign of good faith, and to prove his continuing loyalty to the Order. As a reformed Death Eater, he was still regarded with suspicion at best and downright hostility at worst.

For her part, Hermione decided to just stay out of his way. She wasn't one of those to feel any hostile feelings towards Malfoy, but she wasn't about to go out of her way to befriend him either. A small part of her admitted to herself that she was a little scared of him after what she'd seen in his eyes right after the War had ended. It still haunted her.

Draco seemed to have the same idea as Hermione because she never saw him except at mealtimes and in class, and even then, he barely associated with anyone.

Hermione found herself watching him, and she wasn't sure why.

One day, in Potions class, (that just wasn't the same without Snape's cantankerous presence and who knew that was a thought she'd _ever_ have!) she was doing just that from her seat across the aisle, when he caught her.

Brown eyes once again met grey.

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath at the intensity in his gaze and jerked her head away.

But she could still feel his eyes burning into the back of her neck for the rest of the class period.

Things only progressed from there. And by things, Hermione meant the staring.

He stared at her. All. The. Time.

She was always uncomfortably aware of when his gaze was on her. The hairs on the back of her neck would prickle, her palms would moisten, and a fluttering she stubbornly attributed to school stress, would melt her stomach. Deep down, she knew she only had herself to blame; she'd started it by staring at him first. But really, was it too much to ask, that he avert his glacier eyes and go back to ignoring her?

Apparently so…

Though he never spoke to her, or seemed to actively seek her out, wherever she went, he seemed to be there. And when they were both in proximity to one another, he was staring at her.

After several weeks of this, Hermione was fed up. This had gone on long enough. He wanted to intimidate her, eh? Well, two could play at that game. At every meal, she had been careful to sit with her back facing where Malfoy usually sat. While it helped that she couldn't actually see him, she could still feel him watching her. Well, no more. Summoning her legendary Gryffindor courage, Hermione entered the Great Hall for dinner and sat directly facing the Slytherin table.

She didn't have to wait long. Almost as soon as she sat down, an amused pair of grey eyes caught and held her own. Defiantly, she stared back, willing him to break first.

He didn't.

She glared.

He stared.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

His lips began to curl upward.

 _"Stop it!"_ she mouthed at him.

He grinned.

" _You stop,"_ he mouthed back. Then, of all the nerve, he winked at her.

She looked away, feeling herself blush.

Damn him.

As an intellectual connoisseur, Hermione prided herself on knowing the right answers to a multitude of questions. However, when it came to boys, most particularly one Draco Malfoy, she was forced to admit she was in over her head, not to mention completely out of her depth.

Instead of scaring him off, she'd only seemed to encourage the git. To top it all off, she'd actually blushed like some silly, halfwit schoolgirl with clouds for brains.

The staring had flustered her to the point that she had taken to skipping meals and making sure to grab a seat that was out of Malfoy's line of sight in class. She despised him for doing this to her, and despised herself for letting him get to her in the first place.

What in Merlin's great name was the matter with her?

It all came to a head one cloudy afternoon while Hermione was studying for her NEWTS. Hogwarts was nearly deserted since most of the students had gone on a Hogsmeade trip, and not feeling very sociable without Harry or Ron by her side, Hermione had opted to relax and unwind in her favorite place: the Hogwarts library. She had secured her favorite table near the restricted section, spread out her schoolbooks, spare parchment and quills, and promptly immersed herself in her work.

In fact, she was concentrating so hard, that the sound of a chair leg dragging against the floor made her jump.

She could only gape in silence as none other than Draco Malfoy pulled out the chair next to her, sat down so close his shoulder brushed hers, and then ignored her in favor of the book he was reading.

Her work now forgotten, Hermione could only stare at the man beside her in a mixture of annoyance, confusion, and those damn butterflies in her stomach. He was seemingly completely engrossed in the book he was reading, which to her surprise, she noted was a Muggle one. Eventually deciding that he was not going to speak to her or otherwise acknowledge her presence, she decided to ignore him in return and continue studying.

Of course, her concentration was broken now. His shoulder touching hers was too distracting; she tried to subtly scoot away from him, but every time she tried, he would simply shift closer to her again so they were lightly touching.

After nearly half an hour of this strange dance, Hermione had had enough, and decided the best course of action would be to remove herself from the situation. She reached across the desk for her schoolbag to begin packing up her belongings, resolving not to glance at the infuriating man next to her.

However, all thoughts froze in her brain when she felt his hand caress the back of her knuckles. It was such a feather-light touch she thought she'd imagined it at first, until he did it again. She watched his long, elegant fingers explore the back of her hand ever so gently, stroking, learning.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and glanced at him only to find him already looking at her. The heat in his gaze made the butterflies in her stomach reemerge and begin clawing at her throat, and suddenly she knew.

 _He wanted her._

 _And saints above, she wanted him too._

It was that thought that cleared her brain, and brought everything back into focus. She stood up so fast her chair fell over with a loud bang that she was glad Madame Pince wasn't there to hear. Without another glance or word to the strangely silent blond man still sitting tensely in his chair, she grabbed her belongings and fled her sanctuary.

She wasn't sure she'd ever look at the library the same way ever again.

Hermione ran through the halls of Hogwarts, silently thanking whatever deity was listening that no one was about. Her heart was pounding like a drum, and part of her wanted to go back to the library and confront Malfoy once and for all.

The other, more rational part of her warned her to keep running. She was scared, scared of the feelings he'd managed to invoke in her, and scared of her own feelings. She was even more scared that this was just some sort of cruel joke, to get the 'Mudblood' and that he was just toying with her like a cat would a mouse.

After depositing her schoolbag in her room, Hermione walked to the window and stared out unseeingly at the castle grounds below. Never in her life had she felt so confused and unsure about what she should do.

That strange apathy that she'd felt right after the War had ended crept over her, and suddenly, she felt claustrophobic. She had to get out of this room, out of the castle, and into the open air.

She wasn't surprised that it was raining. It seemed preordained, almost. Flinging her arms out wide, she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and let it wash over her. In that moment, the rain was her only companion.

But not for long…

She heard footsteps behind her, but didn't bother turning around. She knew who had followed her.

"Granger, have you completely lost your mind?" his voice was hard.

"Malfoy," she greeted, still without moving.

She felt him move to stand in front of her, and reluctantly opened her eyes and looked up at him. This was only the second time she'd ever been this close to him, and she was startled at how tall he was. His eyes were pools of slate, as stormy as the sky above him. He was looking at her and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

Tentatively, she reached out and placed a hand on his chest.

"Are you real?" Hermione whispered. This all felt dreamlike.

Draco smiled at her, but his eyes were pained. He slowly covered her hand with his own.

"Funny,' he replied, 'but I was going to ask you the same thing."

He pulled her closer until she was resting in the circle of his arms. They both were soaked to the bone, but neither cared.

Then he was kissing her, and the questions didn't matter anymore. Her arms flew around his neck and then he was lifting her so her feet didn't touch the ground, and every inch of her was pressing against every inch of him and his tongue was touching hers, sparks exploded behind her eyes, and _oh god, don't stop—_

He didn't.

When Hermione came to, she realized she was lying on the soggy ground with Malfoy half on top of her, still kissing her frantically, and moaning her name.

"Draco,' she muttered between kisses, his name sounding foreign on her tongue, 'why-mmm-me?"

He paused, and looked down at her. His eyes were a soft dove-grey she'd never seen on his face before.

"Because,' he said softly, 'when I saw you after the War was over, I realized that everything that I thought I believed in and knew, was a lie. I'd lost my parents and everything they taught me didn't seem to matter anymore. I don't know who I am, Hermione. I didn't know how to move forward from that."

He smiled at her and kissed her again softly.

"Then when I saw your eyes,' he continued, 'I thought maybe you understood what I was feeling, as crazy as it sounds."

"Your eyes were the color of rainclouds," Hermione whispered, feeling tears gather in her eyes.

"And your eyes were chocolate and hazelnut and cinnamon and toffee," he replied.

After some delicious silence, Hermione shivered. "We should go in. I'm freezing," she murmured regretfully. She didn't want to leave this moment, but the very real danger of getting chilled was presenting itself.

Draco nodded and helped her to her feet. For a moment, they stood looking at each other, both acknowledging that this was the beginning of something new and momentous.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked him.

He shrugged, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. "We spend time together and get to know each other better."

She smiled.

He smiled back.

As they walked hand in hand back to the castle, he asked her, "By the way, why do you like the rain so much?"

"I find it…cleansing, I guess," she replied thoughtfully. "After all, everyone deserves a fresh start."

The pair walked in content silence as the rain continued to fall and wash away the past.

 **Please Review** **J**


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